


Indulgence

by White_sparrow (Sylvalum)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), why have depth when you can have lipstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvalum/pseuds/White_sparrow
Summary: “You look… good.”“Are you trying to reassure me or are you being honest?” Tony replies dryly.





	Indulgence

 

They’d been left alone and unsupervised with access to Asgardian mead and a mountain of awkwardness that neither of them wanted to try scaling, which definitely is the excuse Tony is planning to use as defense later on. Along with that it can’t have been _completely_ Tony’s fault since Steve is into this too, he absolutely is, they’re here raiding Pepper’s old bathroom cabinet _together_.

-It started with Steve wanting to Talk. Then it progressed to both of them wanting to Drink. Then Steve tried to start explaining his reasons again and Tony said, _can we not talk about this_? Because Steve loves to apologise, it’s so very tiring for everyone involved – and then Steve just gently touched Tony’s face (Tony gets twitchy just thinking about _what_ he might have intended with that) but well, Steve never got anywhere with it, because then he smeared out Tony’s concealer and discovered two things: 1, Tony had been hiding bruises from his team leader again, and 2, Tony knew how to apply make-up? And oddly Steve had chosen to focus on the fun part of his little epiphany.

“This?” Steve now asks, holding up a small red bag scavenged from somewhere in the depths of a cupboard. He doesn’t even look tipsy.

“Yup,” Tony says. “Let’s leave the crime scene.”

They find the rec room they’d been using to look at each other as little as possible and get wasted in, and Steve gracefully sinks down on one end of the sofa while Tony takes the other. They put Pepper’s bag (and Tony’s smaller bag, already retrieved from his bathroom) on the cushion in the middle. There. Everything feels… pleasantly absurd and right here, right now, Steve breaking the rules seems almost endearing, and Tony won’t think about how he feels about _that_ in the harsh light of day.

(if he had _just_ signed the Accords-)

“Shouldn’t we have a mirror?” Steve looks at him.

The answer comes to Tony at the same moment as he speaks. “We’ll do each other’s. Try to keep up with the plan, Rogers.”

Tony has no idea what the plan is.

He unzips his bag, because he can’t seem to remember what he’s got in there, but everything in there is all about blending in. Or it’s eyeliner. Colours are great, can’t they get some of those instead?

Steve just watches Tony, so of course it’s Tony himself who ends up taking a look at Pepper’s stuff. Hey, he’s bought some of this for her, he’s pretty sure. Which means he can buy more for her in case she ever notices it’s missing in that undefinable _later_ , that time when he’s going to have to justify doing all this. Steve will if found out of course earnestly apologize, look honestly ashamed of himself, and Pepper will forgive him on the spot. If it didn’t fill Tony with so much nostalgia then he might even have managed to feel bitter about that.

It’s not fair. Not many things are fair, but Tony still wants to say it: it’s not fair. He’s had honest-to-god nightmares about Siberia, he’s been swamped with paperwork for months thanks to Rogers and his merry band of idiots, yet seeing Steve in person makes Tony feel… like all’s well with the world, because _Steve_ is _here_. Steve is home. And sometimes they even listen to each other in meetings or nod at each other when they pass in the corridor, which is really just the cherry on top.

Tonight doesn’t count, because tonight they don’t care.

“Hey Cap, come here.”

Tony finds a lipstick and removes the cap. Bright red. And really, he’s done so many worse things while drunk, is what he reasons as Steve actually leans forward. He closes his eyes too, which is good, because otherwise Tony knows he would not have been able to concentrate whatsoever. It’s already hard to concentrate, but at least he can just blame that on the magic mead.

He puts a hand at Steve’s cheek to hold him still, grasps the lipstick, and proceeds to destroy the rest of his own sanity.

It doesn’t look precise and professional like Pepper’s, or come anywhere close to the razor-sharp lines Natasha applies no matter what the product is, but it’s not so bad. Not at all. Steve’s lips just look very scarlet, and very kissed. Which yes, that _is_ very bad for Tony’s emotions, but at least Steve looks _good_.

“There you go,” Tony murmurs. Steve opens his eyes which makes Tony quickly withdraw his hand, and Steve gingerly touches his own lips.

“Thank you,” Steve says, hilariously polite, and then, “Your turn.”

And why not?

Tony sits closer, and finds himself closing his eyes too, and then Steve starts working. Carefully painting his lips, and Tony faintly recalls something about Steve being an artist. Not like that’s making it feel more impersonal in any way, what with Steve’s fingers splayed over his cheek. Tony tries to breathe very discreetly and condemns himself and his ideas, because he’s definitely going to replay this moment again and again in his mind come tomorrow, and in entirely different contexts.

“Done.”

Tony opens his eyes. Steve caps both of the lipsticks in only three tries, and Tony looks at the bags and wonders why on Earth he’d suggested they do this. He can’t remember what the original idea had been, but Steve must be at least partly to blame. It’s harmless, what they’re doing, except for how if Steve looks so stupidly good in lipstick then how will Tony be able to handle any more? He doesn’t want to do something so drastic that Steve feels the need to move to Africa again. He won’t. He hates that he feels like this towards _Steve_ \-- but still he just can’t cling to the past, to memories of their fight. If he _could_ then it’d be so much easier to dislike Steve.

He shouldn’t hate Steve, either. They should have a nice normal neutral working relationship. Somehow Tony is completely incapable of just that, even as Steve seems to fight to get there.

“Can I?” Steve asks suddenly, or not at all suddenly since Tony hasn’t been paying attention in the least, holding up a brush. Eyeshadow.

Tony can’t just say _no_ , so what comes out is, “Sure.”

Steve is very careful, the brush as light as a feather, as a kiss, on Tony’s eyelids. Like painting, Tony thinks again. He’d rather like the sinking feeling in his gut to be arousal instead of sadness. Or trepidation.

“I know you said you don’t want to talk,” Steve says then, and he’s not slurring, but there’s something weird going on with his voice. “But-“

“But what, Rogers?”

Steve sighs, precariously close to Tony’s face. “I wish you’d just call me Steve,” he says quietly. That’s – probably not what he’d planned to say, but fine by Tony.

“And I wish you had told me about my parents, Steve.”

“I’m sorry.”

 _I know!_ Jesus, they all know he’s sorry, haven’t they been through this dance enough times already? It is what it is. Story over, scars gained, stop being stubborn and move on! Start talking! …And Tony really should – do that. Talk. Eyes closed, he says, “Don’t do it again.” Please. Don’t lie about things like that, don’t hide secrets big enough to destroy the team.

“What?”

“Next time you find out something like _that_ ,” Tony snaps. “Then tell me, alright? Or not _me_ , tell the one who it actually concerns, but don’t just say nothing and have it blow up in our faces.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a long moment which makes Tony glad that he can’t see Steve’s expression. Then he finally says, “I think I’m sober again.” And, “But yeah. Alright.”

Moment broken.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Tony opens his eyes Steve says, “I wasn’t finished.”

So Tony lets him finish it. Steve’s movements have gotten a bit more confident but no less gentle. Tony feels far too sober for this himself, even without any serum in his veins to actually make it happen, and Steve feels too close. Tony tries not to take notice of any of this and just waits, leaning back into the sofa. Eyes closed. And maybe Tony shouldn’t feel okay doing this, in this position, with Steve looming right here, but Tony’s guard just immediately lowers because it’s Steve. (honestly, he’s got enough triggers already without Steve being one)

Steve doesn’t do anything to break this fragile trust of course, barely even touches Tony’s face when he can help it.

 _Do something,_ Tony thinks.

Steve clears his throat. “I… it’s done.”

Tony refrains from poking himself in the eye by mistake just to feel it and looks at Steve. They’re alone in the building. Not that other people watching has ever stopped Tony, but at least now Sam or Wanda can’t walk right in just as Tony asks, voice far too low, “How do I look?”

Steve twitches. It’d be funnier if the situation didn’t feel so goddamn nerve-wracking. “You look… good.”

“Are you trying to reassure me or are you being honest?” Tony replies dryly.

Steve sets his jaw. His mouth has never before looked this kissable, this red and raw, and Tony’s including all of his fantasies into this statement. Steve then disrupts this pleasant observation by saying without any warning, “If I have a secret big enough to ruin our relationship… Do you want me to tell you?”

Ice rushes through Tony’s veins, which really highlights how hot he felt before. Steve’s words – what. What is it now? What terrible thing did he just now have to remember?

“What?” Tony’s voice comes out too loud but _excusez-moi_ , this is rather _concerning, Steve_.

But what Steve says is, “I want to kiss you.”

His face is resolute, just the hint of a blush high on his cheeks. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for years.”

The words register and Tony reacts.

He shoves the bags off the sofa, exclaims, “Did you have to be so goddamn dramatic-“ and then they’re kissing. How long has Tony been thinking about doing this? Has Steve been thinking about it for just as long? Tony’s hand goes to the back of Steve’s head and he tilts his own head for a better angle, Steve’s hands fluttering at Tony’s waist, and Tony bites lightly on Steve’s lip so he’ll make a soft little gasping sound-- and that’s when Steve abruptly breaks off.

“Wait,” he breathes. “You’re drunk-“

“Just tipsy-“

“Tony,” Steve says. “We should – we could continue this tomorrow-“

He’s starting to sound all proper again, so Tony wets his lips, tilts his head and gives him a lingering and very deliberate look.

Steve has the gall to avert his eyes. “Tomorrow. I promise,” Steve says, face flushed, hands still on Tony’s hips, and despite the entire evening basically being foreplay-

“Stay.”

-Tony finds he cares less about the sex than he cares about this. So _maybe_ he’s a little bit drunk after all.

“Just – stay with me?” Tony tries to joke some of the seriousness away, saying, “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

God forbid Steve will know how much Tony wants this- but maybe he already does.

Steve’s answer is soft. “Alright.”

“And before I forget,” Tony says, “You look gorgeous like that, Cap.”

Steve purses his red, red lips in a pout and Tony feels required by fate to kiss them, so he does.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Sam gets back in the morning he finds Steve in the kitchen, preparing lunch, and Stark, who seems to also be preparing lunch. No, scratch that, they’re actually preparing lunch _together_. Steve says, “Pass me the eggs,” and then Stark teases him while _doing just that._

“Sam!” Steve then says and turns to him. “How was your trip?”

“It was great,” Sam says blandly. Sunshine and rainbows. “But you, Steve, man, what did you _do_?”

“What?”

“You know, with Stark?”

Steve smiles, dare Sam say it, almost smugly, and says, ”We made up.”

 


End file.
